Page 73 of A Matter of Murder

“I haven’t seen such a pristine specimen in years,” Mr. Bennet mused. “If the Crown had known your great-aunt was sitting on a stash like this, they might have solved the silver shortage.”

“I had no idea,” Bingley said, baffled. “Nowhere in any of the paperwork did her solicitor even suggest that she had all that hidden away.”

“What are you going to buy with it?” Lydia demanded. “A new gig and horses to match? A hundred silk dresses for Jane? A new town house?”

Darcy and Bingley exchanged glances. To Lydia, for whom money was something distant and nebulous, this seemed like a life-changing fortune. And, for some people, it would be. But a pile of silver coins was only a small sliver of the wealth someone like Bingley possessed. It would pay for the needed repairs, to be certain, but it would run out. He wondered whether this was the reason the house was such a trap—perhaps Honoria Bingley had been unwilling to spend the last of her nest egg.

“We aren’t spending it,” Jane said firmly. “We don’t know where it came from, or to whom it really belongs.”

“If it was hidden within the house, and Bingley now owns the house, doesn’t that make it his?” Lydia asked.

“Technically, yes,” Darcy said.

“But if it was ill-gotten, then there are certain liabilities,” Mr. Bennet added.

“How did you find it?” Bingley asked. “I can’t believe Honoria had it stashed away all this time.”

Lizzie glanced behind her, and Darcy turned to see her looking at Sally. Sally, whom he had almost forgotten about. “I didn’t find it,” Lizzie said. “Sally did.”

Sally held her head up high. “It was just a lucky guess.”

Darcy glanced quickly at Lizzie and saw her tilt her head in surprise. Clearly that was not what Lizzie had expected her to say.

“A lucky guess?” Bingley echoed. “You knew about the coins? Why didn’t you say?”

“You never asked,” Sally countered. “How was I supposed to know she didn’t leave some kind of directive in her will?”

“Guy was locked in the room where it was hidden,” Lizzie added, her voice sounding strained.

“Guy was locked in a room?” Darcy repeated.

“And in that room was the same window where the masonry fell from the other day, nearly killing us. There were marks around where it came loose, which suggests to both me and Sally that the masonry was purposefully damaged.”

Darcy gaped at her. Too many of the week’s unfortunate circumstances were lining up in an alarming pattern, one that he couldn’t voice.

“I had nothing to do with that,” Sally emphasized.

“I know you didn’t,” Darcy said. “You were outside with us. And I saw movement in the window moments after it happened.”

“Do we think that the same person who took Guy and displaced the masonry also killed the man in the flue?” Bingley asked, sounding confused.

Darcy looked at Lizzie and knew what she was thinking: Lady Catherine had made threats. And yet... could it really be she? And if she could snatch Guy, why not Lizzie?

“Why not steal the coins, then?” Sally asked, surprising them all. “It seems like a rather large coincidence. Presumably this trespasser knew the room was important—why not take the silver and be gone?”

“Perhaps they didn’t know?” Lizzie suggested. “I’d have never thought to check the window seat if I hadn’t seen you open it.”

“Wait a moment,” Mr. Bennet said suddenly. “You mean to tell me thatyouwent into the east wing?”

Darcy saw Lizzie wince. “Yes, Papa.”

“The very same east wing that is expressly forbidden, and that you nearly died exploring? What were you thinking?”

Mr. Bennet was not a man prone to outbursts or bouts of anger. But now he was positively glowering... at Darcy. “How could you let her go there again?” he demanded. “After watching her nearly fall to her death! Have you no sense?”

“I—” Darcy started to say but was cut off.

“Papa, it’s not his fault!” Lizzie stepped between them. “It was my choice, and Sally guided me.”