Chapter 25

Pemberley, Derbyshire

Darcy woke well before his wife, but had no intention of leaving the bed until he saw Elizabeth awaken comfortably. She had suffered another nightmare in the middle of the night – perhaps inevitable after the events of the past few days – and was still lying there in his arms, sleeping peacefully now.

He tilted his head to lay a whisper-light kiss on the top of her head, so overwhelmed with love for her in that moment it made tears spring to his eyes. How could he ever have forgotten her? Surely even if his head had failed to recall her, his heart should have known it was incomplete!

As the tidal surge of love receded, something else took its place, a strange awful twinge in Darcy's belly, an echo of the stronger sensations he had felt yesterday, upon reading the transcript of the trial. His wife – that other half of his heart, his soul – had been raped, in this house. Somewhere under this roof was a room, and in that room, Elizabeth had suffered the unimaginable. It was likely the cause of at least some of her nightmares, although she was yet to speak of them, and Darcy would not press her on it. She had been eager to return to Pemberley so that his head could heal, but Darcy feared his healing would come much more quickly than hers.

In time, Elizabeth shifted, opened her eyes, and smiled. "It is you," she whispered, tilting her head to kiss him, a kiss that pulled the tide of love back in. "How is your head? The swelling looks better."

"It feels better, too. And how are you, my darling?"

"I am here, with you, and not on my way to Botany Bay. Which is to say, wonderful."

They laid there peacefully for some time, both of them feeling grateful for those things Elizabeth had mentioned. Eventually, of course, life drew them from the bed: there were children to be visited in the nursery, and then fasts to be broken.

During breakfast, Darcy mentioned that he intended to ride out and view the estate – now that he could recall it – and asked if Henry would join him. Henry's rather curt response to this was that no-one with a head looking as Darcy's did ought to be riding, but he would drive the curricle about with his cousin.

So they went out, Darcy feeling pleased with the return of his confidence: he recalled all of his lands and tenants, he recalled how the estate had run, and he had many questions for Henry that would never have occurred to him, as Will. It would take time, to understand all that had occurred during his absence, but Darcy felt certain that he would be able to do so. What he did not feel confidence in was his cousin's sentiments towards him, for Henry's responses grew more and more clipped, until finally Darcy asked,

"Henry, what is it?"

His cousin turned his attention from the team long enough to scowl at Darcy and say, "What is it? It is your behaviour in the Bull's Head. Your wife may have forgiven you, but I have not. I heard your testimony, Darcy, but I am not sure that you believed it, even as you said it."

Darcy sighed. He had suspected this was behind his cousin's demeanour. "Elizabeth has not forgiven me because I did not ask it of her. What I did was unforgiveable, and I told her thus."

Henry's countenance softened, just a little. "That is a start. I believe you and I have been overdue to talk, since you regained your memory." He asked the horses to trot on a little way down the lane until they reached the turning to the Milfords's farm, then he brought them to a halt in the drive.

"Where shall I start?" Henry asked. "Perhaps with the fact that you gave your tacit consent to her remarrying by spelling out in your will that her jointure should continue for the rest of her life, regardless of her marital status. Let us start there."

"I – I thought someday she might meet someone else she cared for. I wanted her to be happy, and never fear pecuniary concerns."

"You thought you wanted her to be happy. But the truth is you wanted her to feel the pain of her loss as much as you think you would have felt the pain of hers, and by her remarrying so soon, you believe she did not. You think 15 months is not a long time to mourn you. Well, let me disabuse you of that notion. I watched her for most of those 15 months and I can assure you that it is – as I can assure you that she was still very much in pain when she remarried. Your death took all of the life out of her. She was living for those little boys and those little boys only. Not just as a mother, but as someone who was trying to honour you by doing everything she could for them. And you scorned her for it."

"Your chastisement is wholly deserved. I did believe my testimony, but I could not comprehend how Elizabeth had gotten to such a state where she felt that was her best choice. Did no one try to stop her?"

"Oh, so you will lay this on us, now!"

"It is on your family – it has been from the beginning. None of this would have happened without your father's timber interests. Trees, Henry, –––––– trees. I nearly died because of trees."

"Do not try to put that on me. My father sold his timber interests out of guilt for what happened, but they would never have been my trees, regardless," Henry said. "I do regret not trying to stop Elizabeth. She did what was logical for our world, but it was not logical for her. She acted out of pain – both over your death and the abandonment of her friends. Lady Astley cut her in Hyde Park, and all of that circle were quick to follow."

"I would have expected better of Meg. I had always thought her a true friend of Elizabeth's."

"None of us has behaved well in all of this (save the Bingleys, I suppose). But Elizabeth has borne the brunt of it. She deserved better, Darcy – so much better."

Darcy nodded. He took a deep breath. "Henry, I – I am going to ask something even though I am not sure I want to know the answer, because I fear still more leaving it unspoken between us. Do you have affections for her? More than – more than cousinly affections?"

"I will not prevaricate with you: I do. I had always liked her very well, even before you were betrothed, and I felt a strong protective urge towards her while you were gone. I had not allowed my affections to grow, but I might have done so had we fled to the continent together. And if I had been required to escort her to Australia in your stead – "

"I would never have made her go without me."

"She did not know that, the morning of her trial. The look on her countenance – I had hoped I would never have to see that look on her countenance again. Even so, she would not accept my offer to go with her and see her settled until I generalised it to a man of her family – although that would assuredly have been me in the end, for I would never have made Bingley leave his wife and children for so long. However Elizabeth may have bestowed her hand in marriage, her heart has always belonged to you, Darcy."

"And I have not always deserved it, I will own."

"In turn, I will own that much of what she has suffered because of you was not in your control."

Darcy nodded, feeling that if they were not yet there, at least they were on a path towards peace. He did not intend to allow himself any jealousy towards Henry – his cousin's reassurance and his own understanding of Elizabeth's affections were more than sufficient to prevent it. And Henry had been on his mind, when he had put that clause into his will, thinking that perhaps in time as a co-guardian of her children, as the custodian of Pemberley, and someone already esteemed by her, Henry might well prove a good second husband for Elizabeth. It had been a consideration, although of course Darcy had been assuming he would be well and truly dead if it had come to pass.

"I am grateful to you, Henry, for everything you did in my absence – especially in looking after her."

"Then pray, show your gratitude by not requiring me to do it any longer."

"I shall. I intend to spend the rest of my life endeavouring to make her happy."

"I must be content with that. I suppose I have berated you sufficiently – your contrition has rather taken the wind out of my sails."

"No amount of berating is sufficient for what I did, but I cannot change my actions in the past – I can only seek to do better in the future."

Henry told the horses to walk on and began the process of turning the curricle back towards the lane. "And where will that future be? Do you still intend to sell Pemberley and buy a cottage by the seaside?"

Darcy chuckled darkly. It was strange, for he could recall his sentiments as Will, and they still did not feel invalid. But nor were they his sentiments any longer. To Henry, he said, "I can recall my father, now, and therefore his teachings. Some few years as a fisherman are not enough to replace most of a lifetime of being prepared to take this role. But there are things I intend to change, things I should have changed long ago. I will not renege on my responsibility to the home of my family, nor its servants and tenants. But society – all the scraping and climbing and gossip and fighting for connexions – I will not push my family into society as I did before. I never even liked it myself, and the toll it bore on Elizabeth is far too great."

"I always thought you were destined for a hermit," Henry said. "It has come about a bit sooner than I had expected, but I suppose the circumstances are unusual."

Henry's countenance and tone indicated there was sufficient peace between them for him to teaze, and Darcy was glad of it. Discord between the two of them had always been exceedingly rare, but still more it made clear that while Henry might have felt some affections towards Elizabeth – and certainly had been quick to leap to her defence – he was not nursing a broken heart. Darcy knew what it was to feel heartache when it came to Elizabeth, and his reasons were numerous for not wanting that when it came to his cousin. What he said however was:

"Hmpf. We will still go into society here in Derbyshire, and perhaps a bit in London, but I am done fighting. I am grieved that my wife thought it necessary to fight on my behalf when I was gone. Let our children meet who they will, where they will, when the time comes – I found the other half of my soul at a public assembly in a small market town."

Henry urged the horses up into a fine brisk trot, and Darcy observed his cousin as they rode along, recalling what it was to drive a team. The pair on the curricle were a team of matched grey thoroughbreds – lovely movers, but not flashy. Darcy had purchased them half a year before sailing on the Rapid. He was glad Henry had not sold them.

Looking up ahead, Darcy was startled to see one of the carriages he had thought lost to the fire in Derby.

"Ho there, Tommy, looks like you've got a surprise for us!" Henry called out to the groom. The young man had been left in Derby to see if any of their belongings could be salvaged from the inn, but none of them had expected anything of value to be saved.

"Aye, sir! Back of the Cross Keys weren't burned nearly so bad as the front. Both carriages made it, although they're a bit sooty from the smoke. We'll get 'em cleaned up and they'll be good as new. I've got to go back for the other one first, though."

"Well done, Tommy," said Darcy. "I think we all feared three carriages had been lost on that trip to Derby, so this is very pleasing news."

"'Tis indeed, sir. And they sent a cart out to get the post-chaise. I don't rightly know that it can be fixed, but ye never know."

"I am sure we would like to have a look at it, regardless. Thank you, Tommy," said Henry, then, to the greys: "Walk on."

Henry manoeuvred past the carriage, and then Darcy said, "May I have a turn at the ribbons? I believe I recall what it is to drive a team, but I shall hand them back if I feel too out of practise."

"They are your horses and your curricle, so I can hardly say no. Try not to put us in a ditch, though. Your wife will murder me if I let you do something that results in another knock on the head."


Following his drive with Henry, Darcy was extremely desirous of seeing his wife, and upon enquiring as to her location when he returned to the house, learned she was in the saloon with the other ladies. He entered that room to a nearly perfect picture of country house life: Caroline, delicately embroidering; Jane, at work on a girl's dress from the poor basket; Kitty, reading by the fire; and Elizabeth, writing a letter at the secretaire. The evident desires of the former and current Bennet sisters to distance themselves from Caroline perhaps marred the perfection a little, but it was still a scene so alien after his years in Cornwall that Darcy needed a moment to recall this was his life again. Then, of course, his attention turned towards Elizabeth.

She was focused on her letter, a curl dropping down across her brow, faintly biting the corner of her lip. As much as he wished to speak to her, Darcy was content at present to merely observe, to love her from afar. Yet before any of the rest of them had even noticed him, she laid down her pen, rose from the secretaire, and walked over to the doorway. Her eyes were bright as she touched his arm and led him into the hall.

"And what is your reason for coming in all your old state to stare at me?" she asked smilingly. "At other times in my life I would have been quite unnerved and misinterpreted your looks, but now at least I know they are founded in love."

He could not return her smile; his thoughts were too serious. "Henry and I were speaking during our drive, of the time I was gone. I fear I would be breaking our truce to say more, but I very much wanted to see you."

"You need not say more – I see what you would say in your eyes," she said, laying her hand upon his cheek.

He needed no further invitation to put his arms about her, to draw her as close as he could, and then still closer, when she tucked her head beneath his chin. Without their speaking of it, he thought she understood his need to hold her now, even though it was but a paltry replacement for not being able to hold her while she had endured such pain back then.

Neither of them made any attempt to separate, and what finally interrupted them was an entirely unclassifiable noise beside them in the hall. Caroline Bingley was staring at them with some combination of confusion, disgust, and anger, and the noise had been comprised of the same. She strode out of the hall as Darcy took a half step back and stared at his wife, who pressed her lips together in her amusement until Caroline was at such as distance as to make laughter safe. Darcy chuckled with her for some time, and then said,

"I fear I have weighed upon your mood, this fine morning,"

"A woman should never complain about being held thus by the man she loves, and as you see, it took very little to recover it."

"Shall you go and complete your letter?"

"Yes – I was writing a response to my father. And you?"

"I fear I must brave whatever Henry and Will did to my study."

She laughed. "I see how it will be, now – every error shall be laid upon poor Will. But you must go easy on him – he did the best he could, given what he knew."

"You are right, my dear." He kissed her softly and took his leave.


During the curricle drive with Darcy, it had been apparent to Henry that his days of being necessary to Pemberley were numbered. He should have expected this, of course, but he had not yet turned his mind to what the return of Darcy's memory would mean for the estate – he had been too focused on his anger on Elizabeth's behalf, anger his cousin had dissipated in the course of their conversation. Only then could Henry observe that the reluctant, hesitant man who had been Will was gone now, in his place the self-assured cousin Henry had known before. Not that Darcy was entirely the same – it was clear his time as a fisherman had changed him, even if he was once again dedicated to Pemberley.

For Henry, it meant his future was still murkier. In the near term, there was his father to assist; it was impossible to know how much time papa had left, but it was surely finite. It would be a double blow, when that time finally ended. The impact to their family, to the earldom, the financial impact to Henry – all were worrying. And yet what would pain him still more was the loss of the man he respected and esteemed. He was glad papa had asked him to spend what time remained with him, was glad papa valued his company. It was nice to be needed.

He had taken the freshly shod Lucinda out for a little exercise following the curricle ride, returned to the house, and been changed by Tindall. Soon, Kent would receive his letter, would learn that Elizabeth had been found not guilty. He would likely be a Bow Street Runner before the week was out. Henry shook his head, as though it might shake out the melancholy and worry that kept endeavouring to take up residence there. Perhaps he would return to the army whenever papa passed, see about purchasing back in. That would be a life full of purpose, he thought, brightening as he went down the stairs to Darcy's study.

Henry knocked and was bade to enter, finding his cousin in the process of restacking every book and folio within.

"It appears I and no-memory you did not organise matters to your taste."

"I cannot say that we did," stated Darcy. "But I am looking for something more sinister. I want to understand what it was Lord Neston sought in here – and whether it was something he took away with him."

"Do you have any idea what it might be?"

"No, that is the difficulty of it – I have been wracking my mind, and I cannot think of anything."

"There are the old stories, about South Sea gold."

Darcy huffed. "Not that old nonsense."

"You might think it is nonsense, but if Neston believed it was real, would he not have made some attempt to find it?"

"If some thousands of pounds of gold were hidden away in my study, I feel reasonably sure I would have stumbled across it long before now."

"A fair point. Perhaps he was looking for evidence that the gold existed. Would that not be in the estate's records somewhere?"

Darcy appeared contemplative. "They would be, but I do not know enough about a financial crisis from a hundred years ago to know where to look."

"Fortunately, I happen to know a historian," Henry said. "Let me see if I can find her."

Kitty Bennet was in the library, as he had expected. She was so absorbed in her book that Henry's saying her name caused her to start, which prompted a soft laugh and a sweet smile from her.

"I have come to you on a mission, Miss Bennet. Have you studied the South Sea Bubble at all?"

She looked at him quizzically and shook her head. "I have not. Have you some need of learning about the South Sea Bubble? Mr. Darcy's library is very well organized. I think I could find books that include it, if you need them."

"Yes, if you would, seek out the books and we shall take them to your brother-in-law's study. We have a need to understand more about the South Sea Bubble, starting with when it took place."

Kitty approached one of the shelves and began running her finger along the spines of the volumes there, pulling out one, and then another. She pointed to one on a higher shelf and asked Henry if he could retrieve it. He did so, a little too aware of her presence beside him as he slipped the book from the shelf. The books were not heavy, but he insisted on carrying them back to Darcy's study.

"Miss Bennet has come to tell us about the South Sea Bubble," Henry said, leading her to a chair and handing over the books.

She began flipping through the pages of one of them, her countenance seeming a little nervous until Darcy said, "Take your time, Kitty. There is no rush. I appreciate your help in this."

Henry felt a little bereft, as though it should have been him to assuage her nerves. More calmly now, Kitty paged through the book until she cried, "Here it is! The South Sea Company was a joint stock company founded in 1711. It was meant to reduce the national debt, and it was granted a monopoly to trade enslaved people to South America. But it was corrupt and insider trading was rampant – members of Parliament were bribed, as well."

Darcy sighed. "None of this sounds like something I would want my family to be involved in. Please continue, Kitty."

"The bubble was caused by these men raising the cost of the stock with all of their dealings, so they could turn a profit. But then the bubble burst."

"What year was that?" asked Darcy, walking over to the shelves that held the estate's books.

"1720. The price of the stock was 100 pounds at the beginning of the year, but there was a frenzy of buying and it went up to 1,000 pounds in early August. By September it was back down to 150 pounds."

Darcy peered along the volumes on his shelf. "I should have been able to tell it was 1720 even without you giving me the date," he said. "There is less dust on this one."

He slid it from the shelf and laid it down on his desk, opening it and beginning to examine the ledgers inside.

"I do not think your family could have profited heavily from it, if they were involved," said Kitty. "There was a Parliamentary inquiry and people who profited illegally had their assets seized."

Strangely, Darcy looked more convinced by this last statement. "What if they profited legally? If my great-grandfather bought at the hundred-pound price, the prudent thing to do would be to sell when it reached a good price. I would have sold at 500 or 600 pounds. Let me start in September and work my way backwards."

He did so, paging slowly backwards through the ledgers, Henry and Kitty looking on in eager curiosity. There was no doubting when Darcy found what he sought, for exclaimed, "Good God!"

"Well – what is it?" asked Henry, when no further explanation was forthcoming.

"My great-grandfather sold in early August, 100 shares at 720 pounds per share."

"Looks like great-grand-papa was much more of a gambler than you, if he let it go at a whole hot 720 pounds." Henry laughed and took a sidelong glance at Kitty, who appeared equally amused.

"When was it purchased, though?" asked Darcy. He perused both that volume and those for 1719 and 1718 as well, finding that the stock had been purchased over time, usually 10 or 20 shares here and there.

"There is no way of knowing whether he was one of the men who created the bubble and then sold before it burst, or he was just making an innocent investment and sold at a wise time."

"Perhaps it is best if you just presume the latter, rather than think badly of your forbears," stated Henry. "I think the more interesting question at this point is: what happened to this 72,000 pounds?"

Darcy returned to the 1720 volume and flipped back to August. "It looks like 10,000 pounds were deposited in Drummonds. The other 62,000 just says 'deposited in P.'"

"Deposited in Pemberley?" asked Henry.

His cousin groaned. "Do you mean to tell me that these rumours I've dismissed as nonsense all these years are actually true?"

"'Tis looking that way, is it not?" Henry said. "In a way, it makes sense. Even assuming the money was honestly acquired, I doubt your great-grandfather would have wished to call attention to his sudden gains at a time when many others were suffering losses, still less once the Parliamentary inquiry started."

"Obviously it did not work completely, since there have been rumours about it – rumours apparently known to Lord Neston," said Darcy.

Henry then realised, as did his cousin, that Kitty Bennet had been glaring at them for some minutes.

"What is it, Miss Bennet?"

"Are the two of you going to sit here talking all day – or are we going to look for the treasure?" said she, in exasperated accents.

Henry had a good laugh over this, while Darcy merely managed a rueful smile.

"I suppose we should," said Darcy.

"We must get Lizzy, though," said Kitty. "We cannot leave her out of the treasure hunt."

Darcy agreed with her and went to fetch his wife. Kitty glanced over at Henry, her eyes a little awestruck.

"Do you really think there could be 62,000 pounds hidden away somewhere here at Pemberley?" she asked.

"I hope so. It will be a mighty dull treasure hunt if there is nothing for us to find." He grinned at her and found her blushing prettily in response. Henry reminded himself to take care – after his conversation with Darcy regarding Elizabeth earlier, he certainly did not wish to be brought to task for flirting with her sister.

He understood her reaction to such a sum. It was an unfathomable amount, to just be lying around somewhere within the house – more than the value of her father's estate, more money than Henry could ever hope to possess in his lifetime.


This time when Darcy inquired as to his wife's location in the house, he was directed to the nursery. She had been passing the time there with Georgiana and Jane, and when quietly asked if she could come speak to him about a matter of business, rose readily and listened to what they had learned as he walked her down to the study.

At his first mention of the South Sea Bubble, Elizabeth halted. "The Beauford family lost a lot of money in the South Sea Bubble."

William sighed. "It appears the Darcy family did not. There have been rumours over the years that there is South Sea gold somewhere in the house, but I never paid it any mind."

Elizabeth had never heard of these rumours. She did recall overhearing certain whispers among the staff that might, in retrospect, have been about hidden gold, but she had given them little attention at the time.

"Has something changed, to make you consider it now?"

"We looked through the estate records. My great-grandfather sold 100 shares of South Sea Company stock at 720 pounds per share. Ten thousand pounds were deposited in Drummonds, and the rest was apparently deposited in Pemberley."

"That is what Neston was looking for in your study, was it not?"

"I believe so. The dust on that record book was much less than the others."

"My God, do you think – do you think that is why Neston wished to marry me? Just to gain access to Pemberley and this fortune? Did he feel some right to it because the Darcys profited and his family did not?"

"That – that is possible, I fear." William squeezed her hand and then drew her into an embrace. "We had intended to look for the fortune and thought you would want to participate, but I would understand if you would rather not be involved. Or would you rather we not seek it out at all?"

"Oh no – we must search for it, and I absolutely wish to be a part of the treasure hunt."

"I had considered asking Georgiana, as well. This was her childhood home."

"She was very content in the nursery," Elizabeth said, for she had spent some of her own time there observing her sister-in-law and Julia. "I think she would prefer to remain there."

He nodded knowingly, and they walked down to his study. There, he proceeded to exasperate the rest of them by endeavouring to create a list of all of the places where the fortune might be hidden, so that they might be checked systematically. Finally, Elizabeth laid her hand on his arm and said, "My love, there is not enough hunting, in this treasure hunt."

Darcy chuckled, seeming to comprehend that the others were very much in agreement. "I suppose the most logical place to hide something in the house would be in the passages."

"The passages would make this a proper treasure hunt." Henry sprang from his chair. "I will get lanterns."

At her heart, Pemberley was a medieval house that had seen many changes over the centuries, her façade updated to a modern neoclassical style, two wings added, and the rooms within the original part of the house reconfigured many times over. This had resulted in what the family called the passages, a set of narrow hallways and derelict rooms in the midst of the house. At one time they might have been used by servants to move about, but at present they were used for storage and nothing else, although both Darcy and Henry looked upon them fondly as a place they had occupied many a rainy afternoon during their boyhood.

Elizabeth had been in them but rarely; when William had first told her about the passages, they had seemed like some wonderful space pulled from the pages of a gothic novel. The reality was somewhat less pleasant – at least as an adult – for they were filled with dust and cobwebs, a dark and claustrophobic space.

A space they were going to enter again, for Henry returned with the lanterns and a tinder pistol. There were multiple places to enter the passages, but the library was nearest to William's study. They went thither surreptitiously, for nothing could have spoiled the endeavour more easily than encountering Caroline Bingley with lanterns in their hands. They were successful in their stealth, however, and William released the latch that held a particular bookcase in place, pushing the bookcase open to show that it was a door. A clever door, Elizabeth had always thought – usually such doors in libraries held fake books, so that they appeared consistent with the rest of the room at first glance. Pemberley had gone further, though, and the bookcase-door held real volumes; it was almost impossible to know the door was there unless someone demonstrated it.

Certainly this caused Kitty's reaction, for she gasped and stared down the passage in wonderment. Kitty did not know about the cobwebs, yet. They entered, Darcy carefully closing the bookcase behind them. This passage was narrow, the walls timber and plaster – Pemberley's old bones, exposed to them all as they walked along, the light from their lanterns bobbing down the corridor. Henry had gone first, and by the motions of his hand, Elizabeth could see he was knocking away cobwebs as he walked. Eventually he halted, where the corridor formed a T shape with passages to the left and right. Henry proposed they split up, and they were all in agreement. Elizabeth was about to go off with her husband when she realised she should not send her unmarried sister off to explore dark, hidden passageways with a bachelor – regardless of his being a cousin and good man – and she proposed they split by ladies and gentlemen.

Now it was Elizabeth leading the way and waving her arm to dissipate the cobwebs, cringing as she did so – she adored most of nature but drew the line at spiders, and hoped there were no living residents in these webs. The ladies' passage continued on in timber and plaster for a goodly length, and then they came to a door. This opened into a servants' hallway, and yet again, it was well concealed, hidden amongst a set of shallow cabinets that lined the wall. Elizabeth looked about carefully for any servants before crossing the hall and opening the cabinet on the other side. She presumed most – if not all – of the servants knew of the existence of the passages, but she did not want them to see their mistress and her sister lurking about within.

The passages here were lined with old panelling, the aged wood making the space seem even darker, and Kitty said, "Do you think there might be a door, hidden within the panelling?"

"That is a good idea Kitty. Let us check."

So they progressed slowly, Elizabeth pressing on each panel on the left side of the hall and Kitty the right. They went on like this for a very long time, and then suddenly Kitty's lantern wobbled as she screamed: the panel on her side of the hallway had opened into another room. Stepping inside, they found it lined with still more panelling, a series of trunks along the walls.

Elizabeth gasped, certain at that moment that the trunks would be filled with the South Sea money. She was wrong, however; they found them filled with old clothes, largely damask silks of a style some hundreds of years old, but with a goodly amount of wool and linen mixed in. Further searching revealed fans, cloaks, hats, and shoes, but nothing that could be described as treasure save a brooch still pinned to one of the gowns, which (at least by lantern-light) looked as though it might be comprised of genuine stones.

Kitty took up one of the hats and placed it atop her head, then held one of the dresses up to her form. "How do I look?" she asked.

Elizabeth laughed and opened one of the fans, gesturing flirtatiously. "Very well, my lady."

Kitty then plunked another of the hats down on her sister's head, and they proceeded to investigate the remaining trunks, trying not to giggle so as to not make noise in this part of the house, and generally failing.

Then one of the other panels clapped open suddenly, prompting both of them to scream. Henry stuck his head through and said, "Here we are, Darcy. Bartholomew Fair. I told you it was within your house."

They all had a good laugh over this, the gentlemen informing the ladies that their search had been similarly unfruitful thus far.

"I think perhaps we ought to leave off for the day, although the ladies may wish to take some of their spoils back with them," said William. "Even if they have not overheard us, the rest of the house will start to wonder where we have gone. We can continue the search tomorrow."

They all saw the sense in what he said, even if they could not particularly like it. So they followed William back out, down the passage the gentlemen had taken. This corridor was wider, but also used for storage, almost entirely lined with trunks so that there was but a narrow space to walk.

"We checked these trunks," said Henry. "Mostly old tapestries and whatnot. Some are completely empty."

"It's possible the money was in those trunks, and was spent over time," said William. "The family might have just drawn on their house bank over the years as they needed ready money."

"Do not dampen our spirits, husband," said Elizabeth playfully. Her spirits had been high for much of the day, despite the reminders of Alexander, and she felt the buoyant effect of laughter upon them.