Page 101 of A Matter of Murder

“I didn’t,” Lizzie said honestly. “But if you want me to help you, you have to explain.”

She didn’t think Sally would agree at first. But then she let out a resigned sigh. “Fine. You’re right—the silver coins were hardly Mrs. Bingley’s only treasure. In fact, she told me about them years ago, in case.”

“In case of what?” Lizzie asked.

Sally shrugged. “In case I ever needed them. In case anyone I knew might need them. She didn’t mind that Grandad had used a bit to try to pay off George, although she didn’t like the outcome. I took a coin every now and then, and I’d use them to pay debts, or to ensure a family had fuel for the winter. They were doing no good sitting in that old house.”

Lizzie looked between Sally and Miss Jeffries. Miss Jeffries must have read the question in her eyes. “Yes, she saved my father’s business when he died. He had debts, and I couldn’t possibly have begun to repay them. She didn’t want to see me lose the only livelihood I had.”

“That day in the churchyard,” Lizzie said, remembering what had passed between them. “You were...”

“I was giving her the coins, yes,” Sally said impatiently.

“But how did you use them?” Lizzie asked. “I think a fewpeople might have started paying attention if genuine silver Spanish cobs started appearing in a tiny village in Hertfordshire.”

Clara shrugged. “The blacksmith’s son melts them down for me. He thinks I’m stealing them, but he doesn’t care as long as a nugget of silver is left for him.”

Lizzie almost laughed. Of course. One could always count on greed to keep a secret. “And then what?”

“It’s easy enough to find ways to exchange them for regular coin,” Miss Jeffries said. “No one asks too many questions when you own a business. Then I give them back to Sally, and we use the money as we see fit.”

“The gravestone,” Charlotte said. “Was that you?”

Sally glared. “He was a thief and a lout, but I thought perhaps Mr. Oliver might leave us alone if he saw his father was buried properly.”

Only that had turned out to be a miscalculation, for it had just enraged Mr. Oliver and fueled his suspicion about the Burtons using the treasure to pay for what they wanted. Which hadn’t been inaccurate at all... he just hadn’t had the proof.

“You’ve been working together this entire time, haven’t you?” Charlotte asked suddenly. “I thought it odd that there was no mention of George Oliver’s disappearance in any of the parish registers, especially after Mr. Thomas told me he was certain he remembered an entry.”

“Sally asked me to remove all references to him in my reprintings,” Miss Jeffries admitted. “It’s why I offered to have them printed.”

“Clara!” Sally said through clenched teeth.

“They already figured it out, Sal.” To Lizzie and Charlotte, Miss Jeffries said, “It was so that no one would ever suspect, you see. Sal knew that with your sister and brother-in-law moving in, it was only a matter of time before he was discovered.”

“I wanted to get rid of him before you all arrived,” Sally said grumpily. “But I didn’t have the time before the estate was swirling with estate agents and solicitors and your sister’s servants.”

“So you began to take protective measures by rewriting village history,” Lizzie said, almost approvingly. It was terribly clever. “And did Mr. Thomas know?”

“He never suspected,” Miss Jeffries said.

“And you’ve been using Mrs. Bingley’s stash of silver coins to fund various causes throughout the village, but all the while the real treasure was in the chandelier,” Lizzie said.

“Diamonds,” Sally said shortly. “She bought that chandelier with her silver, not long after she arrived at Netherfield. She told me she could tell how greedy her husband proved to be, and she wanted a way to keep her money close. In sight but concealed. The chandelier was meant to be revealed at a ball she hosted for Geoffrey’s birthday, but... well, the misfortunes struck.”

Lizzie let out a sharp little laugh. “Diamonds. Clever. Have you considered Mr. Oliver?”

“That was my first thought,” Sally interrupted. “But no. He was drunk at the pub the night of the ball. Multiple witnesses accounted for him. I went downstairs after helping the doctorstitch up Miss Bingley to find the chandelier picked over, and every guest in the house headed in different directions.”

“And you suspected me?” Lizzie asked.

“You’re not stupid. I heard your trunk went back to London, but you don’t go anywhere without Mr. Darcy. I went to Clara and told her what I thought; we confirmed Mr. Oliver wasn’t the thief, and then we took the first coach north.”

Lizzie stood, the new information overwhelming. She needed to pace. “It never added up,” she said. “Everything that happened at Netherfield. People said it was the curse, and at first I thought perhaps it was coincidence—or you,” she said to Sally.

“What do you mean?” Sally asked.

“Getting trapped in the service door, the masonry falling, and now that chandelier... what if someone wasn’t trying to hurt us but get at the treasure?”