Wickham. He bears at least as much responsibility as you, and deserves so much censure for other offenses that he will hardly notice the addition.” She took his hand. “Come, let us set aside these remaining letters for now and go to the garden to retrieve the strongbox.”
The air inside the summerhouse had been cold on the January day Georgiana was born, and, the anniversary of that event approaching, the temperature was just as low when Darcy entered with Elizabeth. Not inclined to linger in a place that held a memory so repugnant to him, he immediately approached the fountain and located the section of loose bricks. Elizabeth stood behind him as he knelt to remove them.
The slight gap that had admitted his fingers as a boy now proved too small for him to obtain a grip on the initial brick. “I am afraid this requires a woman’s hand,” he said.
He helped Elizabeth lower herself to the ground. She grasped the brick and worked it out of its niche. Once it had been removed, the rest followed more easily. Soon the small cavity was exposed to view.
It was empty.
“Did you ever return for the strongbox?” Elizabeth enquired.
“No. My mother died that night, and I was so distraught, and the household in such chaos, that I forgot about it entirely. Indeed, it never entered my thoughts again until this day.”
“Apparently, someone remembered.”
Darcy suspected they need look no further than one individual. One who had been extremely disappointed at Darcy’s failure to figure out the proper alphabet combination. Who had become surly when Darcy forbade him to smash the lock to discover what the box held. “I believe an interview with Mr. Wickham is in order.”
“Agreed. But where? Will you summon him to Pemberley?”
“Certainly not.” So long as the reprobate remained in England, he was already too close to Pemberley for Darcy’s liking. Why could his regiment not be sent to India?
“Then a trip to Newcastle is required. I suppose Lady Catherine will insist on accompanying you to continue performing her duty to the courts.”
“I will travel there alone. If Lady Catherine seeks the ivory for herself, we need not aid her by making her aware of this development. We must offer a plausible explanation for my journey and a compelling reason that she must stay behind with you.”
“That will prove difficult. She will enquire into every particular of the business you undertake, and even then is unlikely to let you out of her sight with the courts providing such convenient justification for inserting herself into our affairs.” She thought a moment. “I believe it is best she know nothing of your absence at all.”
“But I shall be gone for several days at least — longer, should Mr. Wickham prove uncooperative. Surely she will notice my empty seat in the dining room.”
Elizabeth contemplated, then looked at him archly. “Cough a bit at dinner tonight. Leave Graham behind at Pemberley. And trust the rest to me.”
This morning has been spent in doubt and deliberation; in forming plans, and removing difficulties.
— Jane Austen, letter to Cassandra Northanger Abbey
19 January 1788
Dear Anne,
Your account of Fitzwilliam’s latest caper amused me exceedingly. There is nothing quite like the mind of a child. He must be a source of happy diversion for you as you await the arrival of his sibling.
I confess, in the four years we have now known each other, I have formed an impression of your sister that is not quite favorable. I can scarcely believe your entreaties to Lady C. fall upon deaf ears. Even if convinced the ivory statuette rightfully belongs to her, can she not at least lend it to you, to set your mind at ease during your approaching confinement?
However, much as you want your mother’s gift with you, do not persuade yourself that you can be safely delivered only through its power. Though it may, as your mother’s female line has long believed, bring luck to women in travail, consider that I and all the other mothers of your acquaintance have brought healthy children into the world without benefit of such tokens. That you lost your last babe in the birthing room after surrendering the statuette to Lady C. does not mean you will lose this child. I understand how your previous grief creates in you foreboding over the trial to come, but do not invest all your faith in an object — even a blessed one. Have some in yourself and your own strength.
Trust me. For I am—
Your most devoted friend,
Helen Tilney
Northanger Abbey
30 January 1788
Dear Anne,
Today the west cloister wall was dismantled for repair, and can you imagine what was discovered? The other nine ivories, bundled in a tapestry! Once your statuette left the abbey, the prioress must have hidden these away — better for the Crown to remain ignorant of them all than for a partial set to draw attention to its missing member. The statuettes are exquisite, as detailed and well preserved as yours.
I have asked General Tilney if we might give one of these ivories to you, to replace the figurine your sister withholds. He will not hear of it, and forbids me to broach the matter again. I am sorry, my friend. I wish I could do more, but we have known each other long enough that you understand my real power in this house is nothing...
I remain—
Yours most faithfully,
Helen Tilney
Northanger Abbey
16 February 1788
Dear Anne,
Last night General Tilney and I quarreled again over the statuettes. He intends to sell them! He says they are worth a great deal of money, and that he shall find a collector willing to pay him handsomely. How can he look upon these beautiful, sacred objects and see only their monetary value? I hope they fetch him forty pieces of silver.
He departs tomorrow to join his regiment for a period of time, after which he intends to pursue the sale. I cannot countenance it. You have often invited me to visit you at Pemberley, and I have always deferred to General Tilney’s preference that I not absent myself from Northanger. No more. If you will have me, I shall come within this fortnight. We will be merry as I help you plant your new flower garden and prepare for another Darcy...
28 April 1788... I have safely reached home, but a furious husband awaited me. It seems that during his absence, the statuettes disappeared from Northanger. He accuses me of authoring the business, but I said I could tell him nothing, having been away from the abbey myself these several weeks. He now levels accusation upon me with every glance. For my part, I am glad the ivories — wherever they might be — have escaped his mercenary grasp...
13 May 1788... Words cannot convey an apology adequate enough to address my husband’s actions toward you. Please believe that I was ignorant of his journey to Pemberley until after he returned. When he
