North by Northanger (A Mr. & Mrs. Darcy Mystery) (23 page)

The two remaining chests arrived. Elizabeth approached the first with the expectation of another afternoon spent with voices from the past sharing twenty-year-old gossip from London and news of the neighborhood. She opened the lid, withdrew a handful of letters, and settled before the fire to read.

No sooner had she unfolded the first letter, however, than she gasped. And then immediately summoned a servant to find Darcy. This chest did not hold the same “treasure” as the others.

This chest held gold.

Northanger Abbey
3 May 1784
Dear Mrs. Darcy
,

We received with interest your letter regarding the statuette that has come into your possession and its possible association with Northanger Abbey. While we can offer no particulars about the specific item you described, General Tilney and I are happy to share our knowledge of the abbey’s history in hopes that it might prove useful to your research
.

Northanger Abbey has been the home of my husband’s family for over two hundred years. It was built in the thirteenth century as a convent dedicated to the Blessed Virgin, and paintings of the original building depict it as a magnificent structure. Though a relatively small religious house when compared to such abbeys as those of Glastonbury and Bath, it enjoyed the patronage of some of England’s wealthiest families and counted among its sisters many of noble lineage. For two centuries the nuns lived and worshipped in peace. Upon the Dissolution of monasteries, King Henry the Eighth sold Northanger Abbey and its lands to Sir Edmund Tilney, who converted it to a private home. It has since passed through many generations of the Tilney family, falling to my husband a decade ago. While a portion of the original building yet stands, much of the ancient structure had deteriorated by the time General Tilney’s father took possession. He began extensive repairs and modifications that my husband continues
.

We know little about specific treasures held by the convent before the Reformation. As the abbey was richly endowed, I imagine that it was as glorious within as without, filled with ritual objects, art, tapestries, and other gifts of great beauty and worth. Most of them, of course, were either surrendered to the bishop or seized by the Crown when the priory was disbanded; we do, however, possess several items uncovered during renovations to various portions of the house. As the nuns apparently hid these items rather than allow them to be destroyed as idolatrous, it is entirely possible that they might also have secretly consigned other objects to trusted individuals. Perhaps the ivory statuette came into the care of your mother’s family at that time
.

Should you wish to come to Northanger Abbey and see where your mother’s heirloom originated, I would take great pleasure in showing you the house and the few objects we have found. General Tilney suggests you bring the ivory, as your description of it has aroused his curiosity. Do consider our invitation. Your visit would be most welcome to
—

Your servant,
Helen Tilney

Northanger Abbey
12 June 1784
Dear George
,

I have safely arrived at Northanger Abbey. Mrs. Tilney is as gentle and amiable as her letter suggested, and we get on as if acquainted for years. Already we call each other by our Christian names, and I believe a lifelong friendship has been formed. General Tilney is a harder man to like—rigid and, I daresay, even oppressive at times—but strives to be an attentive host
.

The abbey grounds are lovely. The many gardens abound with flowers, including some varieties with which I was previously unfamiliar, nurtured in the estate’s succession houses. Helen has adopted one of the abbey’s oldest gardens as her own. It is a meditation garden, designed in a rosette pattern and filled with the most beautiful, fragrant blooms. I am quite infatuated with her Madonna lilies, and am determined to have some of my own at Pemberley. She has instructed her gardener to send Mr. Flynn a quantity of bulbs when they are ready for transplant
.

Despite the modernizations undertaken by the General and his father, much of the house retains its ancient character, and I can imagine these walls once having held my mother’s ivory. Indeed, in one of the former chantry chapels, now an ordinary room, the walls are lined with ten small niches for which the ivory appears perfectly sized. The General, who had already taken great interest in the ivory, became even more curious about it upon this discovery. He has examined the statuette most closely and asked me a great many questions. Do I know exactly how my mother’s family came into possession of it? Do we know the whereabouts of any others? Have we ever sought an appraisal? Though he is all politeness, I sense he resents my ownership of an item that, as it once belonged to the abbey, he believes should rightfully belong to him
.

Helen has suggested that I might learn more about the ivory by visiting the nearby cathedral. Perhaps its treasurer might know of similar statuettes, or its library might contain a record of items held by Northanger before the Crown seized them. She has offered to accompany me, and we journey there on Wednesday
.

I enjoy good health; the babe gives me no trouble. I look forward to returning home before my condition becomes apparent to the world. Though Helen, with three children of her own, soon guessed my secret
.

I will write when I have more news. Until then, I remain—

Your Anne

Northanger Abbey
17 June 1784
Dear George
,

What an extraordinary day this has been! We have returned from the cathedral, where we spent two dusty days in its library. Though its modern books are as well organized as those in Pemberley’s library, records predating the Reformation lie jumbled in an old vault. Thank goodness Helen accompanied me, or I should have been twice as long searching—especially with the reverend canon casting his suspicious gaze upon me all the while, as if I intended to smuggle one of the neglected volumes out of their tomb. I had to invoke my brother’s title, which you know I am loath to do, to gain access at all
.

After many hours’ fruitless labor, we had despaired of finding anything pertaining to our enquiry, when I happened upon a mottled volume titled Inventorie of the Jewells and Riches Belonging to Northanger Abbey. Dated 1536, it catalogued every item of gold and silver plate, every work of art, every saints’ relic the abbey held. George, I read through the entire register, and I believe I possess a treasure more valuable than I ever imagined! The statuette was listed—one of ten ivory figures as old as the abbey itself. The fate of the others, one can only speculate
.

Helen is quite as thrilled by the discovery as I. She has given me a beautiful new strongbox in which to safeguard my treasure. It is a small rosewood casket with a Madonna lily carved on its lid and velvet cushioning inside. The statuette and its cloth mantle fit perfectly
.

General Tilney’s reaction to our findings was not nearly so gracious. I believe he envies me the ivory more than ever. Helen, however, managed to placate him by sharing the particulars we also learned about the items in his possession
.

I depart here Monday. Though excited by my success and delighted in my new friendship with Helen, I look forward to returning home. I have missed you, and remain ever—

Your Anne

Twenty-three

“
The vicious propensities—the want of principle which he was careful to guard . . . could not escape the observation of a young man of nearly the same age with himself, and who had opportunities of seeing him in unguarded moments.”

—
Mr. Darcy
, Pride and Prejudice

D
arcy approached Elizabeth’s dressing room with apprehension. His wife had sent word through the servant that he should come quickly, but had not indicated why. Though the maid had assured him of Mrs. Darcy’s appearing perfectly well, the distance between his library and their apartment had never seemed so great as it did now, with one dreadful imagining after another flying through his mind.

He found her seated beside a trunk, one letter in hand and surrounded by others. Upon his entrance, she with obvious reluctance dragged her gaze away from the open letter.

“I hastened here directly you summoned me,” he said. “Are you quite all right?”

She regarded him eagerly. “These are letters from Northanger Abbey.” She made a sweeping gesture toward the piles of paper. “I tried to wait for you, but I could not help myself.”

“Is that all?” Relief overtook him at the knowledge that her health had not created the urgency. He sat down beside her.

“Is that
all
? These are filled with information about your mother’s ivory. It seems that the statuette once belonged to the abbey—before the Dissolution, when it was yet a religious house. Upon receiving the statuette, your mother contacted the Tilneys in hopes of learning more of its history, and a friendship formed between Lady Anne and Helen. Here—these two messages are the earliest.”

She thrust the notes into his hands. They were dated the year of his birth. She watched him impatiently while he read. He had barely finished, and was yet absorbing the particulars, when she picked up a third letter.

“Now in this one, Lady Anne learns that her ivory is one of ten such statuettes. And here—listen to this. Helen Tilney gave her ‘a beautiful new strongbox in which to safeguard my treasure. It is a small rosewood casket with a Madonna lily carved on its lid.’ ” She looked up at him excitedly. “
That
is what we ought to be seeking. We have been searching all this while for the statuette itself, not a rosewood box with a lily on top.”

A sickening sensation began in the pit of his stomach as a longburied memory forced its way into his mind.
A rosewood box with a lily on top
. Dread rapidly enveloped him. Oh, Lord. Oh, dear Lord.

“Darcy? All the color has drained from your face. What is the matter?”

He had held such a box in his hands that day.

The day Georgiana was born.

The day his mother died.

He swallowed, but the bile in his throat would not recede. “I have seen that box.”

“Indeed? Where?”

“In the summerhouse of the south garden.”

“Lady Anne’s garden?” She reflected a moment. “I suppose it makes sense that your mother might keep it there. When her sister
finally returned the statuette, she put it in a place significant to her but outside the main house, where Lady Catherine would be unlikely to casually notice it and revoke its ‘loan,’ or to seek it if the determination ever possessed her—which it has, nearly twenty years later. But Darcy, you appear quite distressed. This is a happy discovery, is it not? We need only go down to the garden now and—Oh! But when did you see the box ? As a boy, or recently? It might not be there, as we know that when your mother went looking for the ivory, it was not where she had left it.”

Because he had moved it.

Guilt suffused him, the overwhelming remorse of a child who has committed a deed so naughty he fears his parents can never forgive it. While his mother had been suffering, his actions had denied her the one item that might have brought her comfort.

“I came upon it that morning—the day of my sister’s birth. My mother was short-tempered at breakfast that day. For a fortnight she had been expecting her pains to commence at any moment, but they had not, and I think she grew weary of the waiting. As soon as I finished my toast, I fled the house in search of more pleasant society. I found it in . . .” He shifted his gaze, unable to meet her eyes. “George Wickham.”

The very thought nauseated him. Of all people whose companionship to prefer above his mother’s on the last day of her life! With whom to have committed his folly!

“He has not always been the scoundrel we recognize him as now. He once was your friend.”

“But even then, I sensed a wayward bent to his character.”

“You could not have known what he would become. Your own father did not, and he possessed the acumen of an adult.”

She was too forgiving. But then, she had not yet heard the remainder of what he had to tell. Like a penitent to his confessor, he continued.

“We wandered into the garden. Wickham had entered it only once before and been run out by Mr. Flynn, who never liked him—in retrospect,
the gardener had better judgment than any of us. But in my company, Wickham need not fear eviction. He had never been inside the summerhouse and wanted to explore it. Have you been within?”

She shook her head.

“There is a fountain in the center—a statue of a lily. When in operation, water spouts from its blooms. It was dry; my mother had decided it made the air in the summerhouse too damp, so it had not run all season. Wickham wanted to see how it worked. I was curious myself—I had entered a stage in my education where I took great interest in the physical sciences and I wished to examine its components. At the base of the fountain we discerned a section of loose bricks. Speculating that they concealed the fountain’s mechanism, we removed them and discovered instead a small casket—the very one my mother’s note just described. It was secured with a letter lock.”